


ruffled and silked

by Emperor_Quarter



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Angst, Body Dysphoria, Gen, Gender Issues, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, you can’t expect me to believe Hiromi is just good now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 23:31:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15302442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emperor_Quarter/pseuds/Emperor_Quarter
Summary: The dress would be pretty on any other person. It’s a baby blue and has sequined straps, gentle ruffles at the bottom that aren’ttooobvious. And it’s really soft. It’s like a cloud gracing against your body and it feels really nice. If it was Nagisa at any other point in his life he would have liked the dress.But not now.





	ruffled and silked

**Author's Note:**

> Me: *needs to work on finishing Please Don’t Look Through the Curtains*
> 
> Me: *completely stalls and avoids*
> 
> Heyyy my first fic on the main protagonists lol. And this is a lot of projection so it’s a mess but *shrugs*

The dress is really, _really_ pretty. 

Its blue (already points since it’s his favorite color) and has pretty sequins on the straps, a little ruffle at the bottom, pooling just below his knees.

It actually looks really nice on him, Nagisa muses. Hiromi is busy with his hair and he’s trying to admire himself to the best of his ability.

Funny thing was, he used to really like dresses. 

He’d play his mother’s game willingly, trying on skirts and dresses and any other sparkly thing to make her happy. It made him really happy too. He really liked the soft cloth against his skin. 

But he stopped liking it around, third year in elementary maybe? Fourth? Somewhere along those lines. He wanted to be like the other boys, with their stiff shirts and crisp shorts that scratched at his neck, and constricted his leg movement.

It made him feel better about himself, filling in a missing hole.

His mother went crazy though. 

Nagisa knew that it was either forgo his happiness for comfort in his skin or vice versa. Dresses made a small part of him smile, but the rest of his mind screamed _no no no that’s for girls it’s all wrong stop stop stop-_

He stared at the mirror, Hiromi smiled as she brushed his hair. “My perfect little daughter~” she cooed, and he grimaced.

NotagirlnotagirlnotagirlnoTAGIRLNOTAGIRL.

She left the room momentarily, and Nagisa collapsed. He fisted the dress, the softness and the cute ruffles he wished he could love and wear without this stabbing pain.

If it were any other life he would have worn it lovingly, perhaps enjoyed dresses and skirts and not have a care.

Daughterdaughterdaughterdaughter.

But it’s all wrong wrong wrong he’s a boy he _knows_ he’s a boy...(at least he thinks) why can’t anyone else see that? It’s so easy to see, really. But then they just shove a skirt on him and it’s all forgotten.

‘Aw look at how pretty she is!’

‘Who’s the girl with the blue hair?’

‘She’s super cute right?’

He blinks at the mirror, fiddling with his hair as tears mist in his eyes. 

Notagirlnotagirlnotagirlnotagirl.

He wants this thing off him, it doesn’t make him happy it makes him feel _worse_ now. He’s not a girl, he has the genitalia to _prove that_ but no one cares.

The itching always happens then.

Its not physical, it’s just this uncomfortableness he gathers, dysphoria, and it’s terrible. He doesn’t even know anymore. All he knows is that he can’t stand being called a girl and it hurts and hurts and hurts.

There’s a dash for his phone, he needs to call someone, just someone, anyone.

_Ring Ring Ring_

_“Nagisa?”_

He nearly cries again at the relief of his friend’s voice.

“Karma...” he can barely choke on the word before the boy spits death threats.

 _“I’m gonna kill that bitch Nagi don’t worry,”_ he promises. Nagisa laughs a little at the fond nickname Karma won’t ever drop, at least he lost the -chan that Nagisa hated. _“Just-just come over alright? I’ll send my address it’s gonna be okay.”_

Nagisafinds himself forcing out a yes before he hangs up. He yanks off the dress—notagirl—and shoves on some crisp clothes and sneakers. Part of him deflates but he can’t think about that as he starts running, just needing to get away.

In a blink he’s at Karma’s, pocketing the phone and barely knocking before the other opens it, and he just finds himself running into Karma and not caring.

“I hate this so much,” Nagisa mutters, happy his friend has enough stability at the moment to just hold and support him without spinning another tease or mockery from nothing. Karma gently closes the door, holding the blue-haired boy as he slows his sobs. 

They sit on the couch in a comfortable silence, Nagisa pulling himself together while Karma rubs his shoulders in worry. “I know I’m not the best person to come to with this stuff, but I’ll listen,” he offers, “and, um, I promise I won’t make fun of you or anything, okay.”

“Okay.” Nagisa says quietly, thinking. “Karma?”

“Karma?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m a boy, right?”

Karma’s eyes seem to widen and Nagisa fidgets. “Well,” he says, trying to say this carefully, “if you don’t think you’re a boy then you’re not, but if you do you are a boy.”

“Oh.” Nagisa plays with his fingers. 

“Do you think you’re not?”

His eyes shoot up towards Karma’s. “I’m a boy, I think, it just,” he sighs and curls up, “nobody else thinks that. I hate how girly I look, I hate how girly I act, and everyone thinks I’m a girl so, am I? Was I just misguiding myself? It shocks everyone when I try to tell them I’m a boy so I don’t know if I should just give up trying to. Would I be better as just a girl?”

So Karma tries to imagine it. He tries really hard to imagine Nagisa as an actual girl, happy and healthy and not just a stereotypical one. He tries to imagine her(?) as a good daughter and friend and maybe even girlfriend to some lucky person (probably Kayano because no matter what those two are super cute together) and wearing a girl’s uniform and smiling and responding to Nagisa-chan and such.

He can’t.

He can only imagine Nagisa, the real Nagisa right here, upset and dysphoric at every comment about him being girly, about how hurt he feels whenever he’s put in the girl’s cameo uniform, how depressed he looks whenever Nakamura tries to dress him up, never happy about it.

“No,” Karma replies, confident in his response. “No matter what happens I can only see you as you, no matter how cute,” Nagisa gives a slight blush, “or tiny or girlish, you’re a boy, Nagisa-kun.”

The blunette nods gently, gears turning. “I used to like wearing dresses,” he said quietly, “they always felt nice, and made me happy. But... when my mom forces me in them and all the comments I get, it just makes me feel really bad now.”

Karma feels himself tearing apart for this boy, his best friend that he wants just to be okay. He pulls the other into a hug (there’s never a such thing of too many hugs, it’s just a fable) and whispers comforts in his ears.

”We’ll stop your mom, okay? And we’ll stop anyone that tries to call you a girl. Just do whatever makes you happy Nagisa. If you want to wear a skirt again, go ahead. If you want to burn them all and never look at a glittery fabric again, I have matches in one of the kitchen drawers and a wide empty backyard. Just tell me what to do to be a good friend for you. I want to make up for all the trouble I’ve caused you. You’re my friend Nagisa, okay?”

Nagisa nodded, smiling at Karma gently, who smiled back. It was genuine.

And for once, his was too.

**Author's Note:**

> I secretly have a love for skirts n stuff (as long as they aren’t glittery) but it makes me so feminine so I can’t wear them.
> 
> Dysphoria sucks.
> 
> Also, Karma is a good boy he's not just a sadistic genius I will fight and I have my Respect Nagisa juice here on sale if anyone wants some.


End file.
